Claimed by the Warlord

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Claimed by the Warlord Page 7

by Maddie Taylor


  “I’ll let you know when I come up with one.”

  Chapter Five

  AFTER HE LEFT, AURELIA closed her eyes and tried to rest as he suggested, but brown eyes radiant with gold and orange ember-like flecks, full lips bracketed by tiny lines making him appear as prone to smile as to frown, and the intense tingling the ruggedly handsome, powerful man stirred inside her kept sleep from coming.

  Beyond the unexpected attraction, she couldn’t shut off her mind, too curious about her host and his ship. He’d called it the Atagan, after their first overlord, and her uncle so many times removed she couldn’t begin calculating how many.

  Another reason she couldn’t relax, the small room felt too confining. With her time in a cage a much too recent memory, she felt compelled to move and stretch her legs. Using more caution this time around, she braced her ribs with an arm across her body and swung her legs over the side, using her momentum to help push her upright.

  Aurelia sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, letting her head adjust to the change in position. Becoming dizzy and falling would only compound her aches and pains. As she stared down at her feet dangling about a foot above the floor, she took note of the white tunic and pants she wore. They were made from a lightweight fabric not many shades different from her fair skin. It wasn’t her usual attire; most often she chose gowns of heavy cloth considering the climate, in vivid jewel tones to enhance her complexion and keep her from appearing washed-out.

  The monochromatic uniform was better than going without anything at all—something she’d recently experienced enough for a lifetime—and she appreciated the loose fit that didn’t constrict her tender ribs. Thoughts of who had dressed her while she’d been unconscious didn’t bear thinking and were pushed to the back of her mind.

  Gingerly, she eased herself onto the floor. She looked for shoes but, not finding any, paced the room in bare feet. On one pass, she got close to the door, which opened automatically. Halting, she stared at it in surprise. Afraid she’d find it locked, and herself truly a prisoner, she hadn’t checked it before now.

  Before it slid shut, she took a hesitant step forward and peeked into the corridor. Finding it empty, she went farther, moving past the other rooms. Through the windows, she caught glimpses of other patients. All women, some species known to her, others from worlds beyond Euphyrion, but none had dark hair with skin bronzed from the sun like their leader.

  When no one came after her and prevented her from leaving, her curiosity led her out of the infirmary into another corridor twice as wide. The ceilings were high, which on a ship was unusual, but considering the height of the overlord and the others she’d seen, it made sense.

  At an intersection with another wide hallway, she caught a delicious aroma wafting in from somewhere, the dining hall she guessed. The last meal she could recall had been long before the attack on her caravan, but instead of following her growling stomach, she chose the other way and nearly collided with two men.

  When they peered down at her, both as tall but not nearly as broad as Lord Darios, their mouths dropped open, and they gawked at her. Aurelia smiled benignly and casually walked by with a false air of confidence, as if she knew her path and destination precisely, though she hadn’t a clue. Taking their lack of inquiry as tacit permission, she continued on with her uninvited exploration.

  The ship was vast, with many offshoots from the main corridors and several four, six, and eight-way intersections. She kept right at each one, planning to use left turns to find her way back, but quickly lost faith in her strategy because it all seemed much the same.

  Aurelia hadn’t gone far when she became slightly winded and fatigue set in. Whether from her ordeal, or the lingering effects of the drugs, it couldn’t be ignored. She paused to catch her breath, except it didn’t come easy, and she noted a wheeze with each inhalation. In hindsight, doing as the overlord had insisted was probably a good idea.

  With a quick glance left then right, she had to admit she couldn’t get back to the medical wing without help. Resigned to asking directions from the next crewman she encountered, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, focusing on breathing slowly so she wouldn’t pass out.

  But they popped open immediately when she heard raised voices. The noise seemed to be coming from an open door not much farther along.

  Slowly sidling up to it, she peeked inside and saw a large group of Voltarrean men. They were dressed in one-piece flight suits like their leader but, instead of silver, in shades of black, red, and dark green. They appeared to be in the midst of a disagreement over something and were all talking at once, which meant she couldn’t make out much of it.

  “Filthy scum-sucking Ophigs,” a man near the doorway muttered angrily. “We shouldn’t have to share the same air let alone the same ship, but to bring him home and let him contaminate Voltarre makes me sick.”

  “Darios wants him alive long enough to wring the truth from him,” the man standing beside him replied. “After that, I’m sure breathing in general will no longer be an issue.”

  They both laughed, and while she didn’t have a problem with the vile man who’d treated her so poorly coming to his ultimate demise, the casual way they spoke of the warlord ending his life was a stark reminder of who and what they were.

  “But what about the ice princess?” someone shouted. The booming voice seemed to come from the front of the room where Darios stood.

  “I say ransom her and split the money,” another called out.

  She’d been right to be suspicious when the warlord referred to her as a guest. This wasn’t a discussion over what to serve her for dinner, or if she took milk or lemon with her tea—they were plotting the fate of their prisoner.

  Aurelia drew her head back and slid out of sight.

  “She’s beautiful and would make an excellent bedmate,” another shouted, sending a hush over the crowd.

  Men. Travel the galaxy—no, the universe—and they were the same, focused on one thing. She would have snorted in disgust, but she didn’t want to be discovered listening at the door.

  Proving her point, the same man went on to say, “We should draw straws like we usually do for a coveted prize.”

  “We could share her,” a third suggested, sending an icy shiver of dread down her spine.

  Seeing her only as a source of profit or a sexual toy, despite their heroic rescue, these men were contemptible and no better than the Ophigs, slavers, and the red devil who’d bid on her.

  “Idiots,” an angry voice cut in. “Do you hear yourselves speaking?”

  “What? She’s Aeldorian. They’re hardly our lifelong friends. We won the battle, which makes everything recovered from the ship spoils and subject to the terms of distribution, including the pretty princess. Am I wrong?”

  “She’s a living, breathing creature, Iyo, not a cache of jewels or credits to be divvied up amongst us,” was the censorious response. It gave her hope some of them were decent and reasonable and wouldn’t let these reprehensible suggestions be carried out.

  “Again, I must remind you,” the one called Iyo replied. “She’s of Aeldor, whose women are as coldly beautiful as the jewels you just mentioned. In the dark, it might be hard to tell one apart from the other.”

  Laughter erupted, which drowned out Aurelia’s gasp of outrage.

  “Do you want war?” the challenger demanded harshly. “Or do you forget the constant turmoil and battles prior to the truce? I, for one, have endured enough war to last a hundred lifetimes.”

  “Why rescue any of them, Daryk, if we just intended to hand them over?”

  “Ever heard the term compassion, Stone Heart?” her defender asked sardonically. “The princess and the others were vulnerable females, captured and held against their will, and it was the decent thing to do. By the Gods, man, they had my woman. I can’t imagine what I would have done if others had reached her first and decided to share her among their crew. Is your heart filled with such bitterness after what you�
��ve been through you have no regard for women at all except as a bedmate?”

  Iyo, who had the most appropriate nickname she’d ever heard, sounded contrite when he replied, “My apologies, for a moment I forgot this was personal for you.”

  “We should keep her,” a new voice suggested, stirring murmurs of surprise.

  “You, too, Ravern? Are we animals like the Napsalese and Ophig scum to treat women this way?”

  “No, Daryk, but our situation may be tenuous with the Aeldorians. We might have to use her as leverage to renegotiate peace. But we should use care with her. After all, she’s as much our High Princess as theirs.”

  “That’s ancient history,” one of the first men exclaimed. “Not many of her people, or ours, think that way. Too many have died since the start of the first war.”

  “Pitting blood against blood,” another uttered in disgust. “For all their vaunted technical advancements and superior brain power, they haven’t evolved morally. Brothers betraying brothers and sons killing fathers to gain power and the throne is the Aeldorian way. They accuse us of being brutish and ruthless. I call it passion and will take it any day over cold, distant, and patricidal.”

  “Agreed,” Iyo replied. “Having the cold bitch in my bed, even one as beautiful as she is would surely give me frostbite and freeze my balls off anyway.”

  Several of the men guffawed at his jest, Aurelia bristled with anger.

  “Enough,” a deep voice rumbled, silencing them all. Instantly, she recognized the warlord’s commanding baritone. “This conversation is turning my stomach. We aren’t space pirates who rape and pillage, and we’ve never enslaved women during any conflict, and I don’t intend for us to start now. Is that understood?”

  He paused until there was a murmur of agreement then, both decisive and strongminded, like all successful leaders, he started issuing orders.

  “Ravern, Stooran, Tegar, arrange to send the others home. I’m sure there are rewards posted. If not, I don’t care if you charge a recovery fee.” He could have called it a ransom, which would have been accurate, but he didn’t. “Cogar and Daryk, split what was taken of value amongst the men.”

  “And the princess?”

  “As overlord, I have the right to choose my battle prize. I’ve never exercised that right, until now.”

  A rumble of opposition erupted among the men.

  “Her fate is decided,” he announced in a loud, unyielding tone that cut like a knife through the dissension. “Iyo is correct about one thing. Under our ancient charter, she is considered spoils, like any other captive. This means she must be claimed or ransomed. I’m doing one of the two now. The other is yet to be decided, but that is also up to me.”

  Claimed!

  Unfamiliar with their customs, she didn’t know what a claiming entailed, but one thing came to mind.

  Blasted sea brinicles, who did he think he was to claim her?

  “The Aeldorians will lose their minds and demand vengeance in either case.” This came from Daryk, the only voice of reason among them evidently.

  Papa would come unhinged, and Axton... Well, to say he would explode with rage was a gross understatement, but another word to describe how furious he would be didn’t exist.

  “Don’t you think I know this, Brother?” Darios growled.

  Brother! The word silently echoed in her head.

  Could the warlord be a twin like her? Despite the gravity of the situation, she was tempted to sneak a peek. She thought better when Daryk demanded, “Then why, when this could mean war?”

  “She was taken from the ice planet, not an easy feat with their defenses, the same as our women. There is something going on. Once I figure out what, I can release her. Because I have claimed her, that will be within my rights.”

  “But, my lord, we found thousands of universal credits on the Napsalese barge,” Stone Heart advised. “You stand to lose your share and more from the ransom of the other two dozen women.”

  “Answers and our future security are worth more to me than any number of credits, Iyo,” Darios replied. “To me, knowing what transpired and preventing any of our women from being taken again is priceless. Besides, what would I do with all those credits on Voltarre? Buy clothes?”

  A ripple of chuckles resounded at his joke.

  While she’d only seen him in his silver space suit, the Voltarreans were known for wearing very little due to the heat of their world. She’d seen pictures of the traditional warriors’ garb, which consisted of nothing more than a leather loincloth and calf boots. Aurelia could only imagine how Darios would look with all that bronze skin and muscle exposed, and she wondered at the extent of his tattoos. He had such a vast canvas; did they spread across his back and shoulders, and perhaps over his broad chest and down his powerful arms?

  The sound of footsteps approaching the door wrenched her out of her near-naked warlord fantasy. Unequivocal in his intent, Lord Darios’ declaration put a stop to the debate, and the meeting as well, evidently. Aurelia knew she should flee, but her feet were frozen in place.

  Naturally, it was the overlord who first appeared in the doorway. She willed herself invisible, but even in Euphyrion, that power did not exist. His gaze found her immediately, and his eyes narrowed. “Princess. What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I...uh...”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She’s eavesdropping, which is an appallingly bad practice. Why am I not surprised from an Aeldorian?”

  These derisive comments were made in the distinctive voice belonging to Stone Heart, whose real name was Iyo, she had discerned. Tall and broad like his leader, he had the same bronze skin, but where Darios had close-cropped dark hair, his flowed freely around his shoulders. His tone, and the callous way he and several others had spoken about her, as though she were the slave the Ophigs tried to make of her, sent her temper flaring.

  “Your total disregard for women is what I find appalling,” she shot back. “We are sentient beings, I’ll have you know, with brains and feelings. We have value outside of what we possess between our legs and being bedmates to your illustrious gender.”

  When she repeated their harsh words, several of the men who’d crowded behind the warlord and peered out at her had the grace to look chagrined. Not stone-hearted Iyo; his jaw had set into a hard line, and his eyes were full of disdain.

  Although they were bigger, stronger, and she was surrounded, she didn’t back down from the confrontation because this man needed to be set straight. She shot him the most fulminating glare in her arsenal.

  “If this is a sample of Voltarrean gallantry and charm, then I think I speak for cold bitches everywhere when I say, if your balls do freeze and fall off, it would be cause for celebration throughout Euphyrion.”

  Muffled laughter could be heard from the men, but Aurelia didn’t take her eyes from the handsome wild-looking warrior because she hadn’t quite said her piece yet.

  “Stand down,” Darios advised when she opened her mouth to continue. “I think Iyo and the others take your point.”

  Aurelia wasn’t convinced he had. She almost said so, but her diatribe had left her winded, and she coughed. One led to another, and another. The lung spasms robbed her of breath and jarred her bruised ribs, which screamed at the abuse. Doubled over in pain when the paroxysms in her chest just wouldn’t pass, she put her hand out, palm flat on the wall to steady herself and to keep from falling.

  “I need a pair of gloves, now,” Darios ordered as he moved quickly to her side.

  Light-headed from lack of air, her body swayed on legs that felt as flimsy as rubber. The room tilted. In a moment, she’d faint. She was sure of it.

  She heard him mutter, “Hell’s fire!” adding, “I’m sorry if this causes you pain, little one, but I can’t stand by as you struggle for breath, nor will I let you fall and become injured.”

  The next instant, she found herself caught up in strong arms and lifted high off the ground. She expected another surge of pain when the warlo
rd’s emotions hit her in waves, but she only felt the same comforting warmth wrap around her as before. Despite him being a stranger, and ignoring the fact he was essentially detaining her, she needed comfort from the lingering effects of the smoke she’d inhaled, and everything else she’d been through. Other than her rescue, and one brief interaction, she had no basis for trusting him, but something deep inside told her she could.

  Curling into him, she gripped his suit as she’d done when in peril before, and buried her face in his neck, feeding off his strength.

  “Where...are you...taking me?” she asked between gulps of air when her coughing subsided.

  “Back to medical, where I told you, quite plainly, to stay,” he growled. “Obedience would have saved you needless grief and pain.”

  “Too late for that,” she whispered hoarsely. “Both of those started this morning, miles from the northern sector, and, I have a feeling, neither will be ending any time soon.”

  “We will get answers to why and how, Aurelia. But in the future, I must insist you do as I say, for your own good.”

  There he went insisting again.

  Her head rolled on his shoulder until she could see his face. Not surprising, it was set in a stern frown. “You do a lot of that.”

  His fiery gaze came to hers in question.

  “Insisting,” she supplied before he could ask.

  One dark brow arched. “You’d prefer I ordered? I assure you I’m proficient at that as well.”

  Of that, she had no doubt. Despite all she’d been through, and because it felt really good to be held in his arms, she smiled weakly. “I should mention I’m not used to being told what to do.”

  “So, I assumed. You’d best become accustomed to it with me, and quickly.”

  Her smile faded as his unspoken or else hung between them. She recalled the swats he’d applied to her upraised behind while carrying her from the burning ship. She thought—no, hoped—it was a reaction to the life or death situation. It had certainly gotten her attention, and cooperation.

 

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